Profile for Purple Martin:
How do you keep an idiot amused for hours?
Click here to find out.
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Best answers to questions:
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- a member for 21 years, 5 months and 6 days
- has posted 2166 messages on the main board
- (of which 3 have appeared on the front page)
- has posted 7 messages on the talk board
- has posted 60 messages on the links board
- (including 2 links)
- has posted 26 stories and 12 replies on question of the week
- They liked 284 pictures, 19 links, 0 talk posts, and 210 qotw answers.
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How do you keep an idiot amused for hours?
Click here to find out.
Recent front page messages:
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quick and dirty, just slapped two pics together, no real effort or skill involved.
(Thu 6th Feb 2003, 3:11, More)
quick and dirty, just slapped two pics together, no real effort or skill involved.
(Thu 6th Feb 2003, 3:11, More)
Best answers to questions:
» Morning After Souvenirs
You Shall Not Pass!
In which Purple Martin stopped traffic (for the wrong reason, unfortunately).
In my first year at Uni I had a habit of collecting bollards, flashing yellow roadworks lights, etc. Every morning I'd wake up to find a couple more of said items in my room. Sometimes there was even a 'ROAD CLOSED' sign or two.
It got to the point that I could hardly move around my room for all the council-clutter. So I hatched a cunning plan, and later that very night I swung (staggered drunkenly) into action...
I closed off an entire, admittedly quite small, road. Yep, there were ROAD CLOSED signs, dozens of bollards, and plenty of those yellow flashing lights. Very impressive if I say so myself (and if you happen to be interested, the street in question was Upper Marsh in Lambeth).
Length? It stayed closed for four whole days, with annoyed looking drivers trying to turn into their usual short-cut then having to reverse back out into main-road traffic. Only on the fifth day did the council come and unblock my road. Yes, that's right, I now consider it to be MY road, forever more, because for four entire days I OWNED that road. Hell Yeah!
(Fri 27th Apr 2012, 7:56, More)
You Shall Not Pass!
In which Purple Martin stopped traffic (for the wrong reason, unfortunately).
In my first year at Uni I had a habit of collecting bollards, flashing yellow roadworks lights, etc. Every morning I'd wake up to find a couple more of said items in my room. Sometimes there was even a 'ROAD CLOSED' sign or two.
It got to the point that I could hardly move around my room for all the council-clutter. So I hatched a cunning plan, and later that very night I swung (staggered drunkenly) into action...
I closed off an entire, admittedly quite small, road. Yep, there were ROAD CLOSED signs, dozens of bollards, and plenty of those yellow flashing lights. Very impressive if I say so myself (and if you happen to be interested, the street in question was Upper Marsh in Lambeth).
Length? It stayed closed for four whole days, with annoyed looking drivers trying to turn into their usual short-cut then having to reverse back out into main-road traffic. Only on the fifth day did the council come and unblock my road. Yes, that's right, I now consider it to be MY road, forever more, because for four entire days I OWNED that road. Hell Yeah!
(Fri 27th Apr 2012, 7:56, More)
» Your Revenge Stories
The bastard deserved revenge. This is not the time to explain why, simply to tell how.
I filled a wheelie-bin 3/4 full of water, and emptied a few packets of watercress seeds into it. I waited till he went into his room (this was in a uni halls of residence) and then I partially tipped the bin up against his door, so that it was leaning on the door. When he opened the door (it opened inwards of course) the bin fell into his room and flooded it with water. Being winter, his carpet didn't dry out for a week. After a few damp days, it mysteriously began to sprout green shoots...
(Fri 14th May 2004, 4:22, More)
The bastard deserved revenge. This is not the time to explain why, simply to tell how.
I filled a wheelie-bin 3/4 full of water, and emptied a few packets of watercress seeds into it. I waited till he went into his room (this was in a uni halls of residence) and then I partially tipped the bin up against his door, so that it was leaning on the door. When he opened the door (it opened inwards of course) the bin fell into his room and flooded it with water. Being winter, his carpet didn't dry out for a week. After a few damp days, it mysteriously began to sprout green shoots...
(Fri 14th May 2004, 4:22, More)
» Hidden Treasure
I used to work in a hospital in a remote part of Kenya.
I went for a walk one lovely sunny afternoon, and followed a barely-there footpath through the lush green equatorial undergrowth. I tripped on something, and looking down I saw it was a fragment of bone. That didn't seem at all out of the ordinary, because stray dogs often leave scraps lying around, so I thought nothing more of it and continued. Before long I discovered another piece of bone, bigger, and looking suspiciously like the end of a human tibia. "Hmmm" I thought, and continued. Rounding the next corner I saw something that made me stop in my tracks: there in front of me, in the middle of the path, looking right at me, was a skull. A real, human, muddy, dead skull. It was at this point that I noticed a smell. If you've smelt rotting flesh before you'll know it is a very distinctive smell, one you'll never forget. Now I was faced with a dilemma (and a skull, but you already know that). Should I go on and discover something worse, or get the hell out of there? I went on. Around the next corner I found where all the bits of skeleton was coming from. In a small clearing there were rows of shallow trenches, some empty, some filled in but showing obvious signs of being dug up by wild dogs. Bones were scattered everywhere. The stench was terrible. There must have been dozens of people buried there, possibly a hundred. I was worried that I had discovered evidence of some genocidal atrocity. I hurried back to the hospital and told the boss doctor all about my discovery. He explained to me the sad truth: it was the hospital's burial ground, where dead patients ended up if no families came to claim their bodies. Apparently people have to buy a license to transport and bury their relative in Kenya, and if they can't afford the transport-a-dead-body license they simply don't collect the body and leave it for the hospital to deal with. My sunny stroll had not been as pleasant as I'd hoped, but I still have a very good photo of the skull. Maybe I'll scan it and post it some time.
(Mon 4th Jul 2005, 6:47, More)
I used to work in a hospital in a remote part of Kenya.
I went for a walk one lovely sunny afternoon, and followed a barely-there footpath through the lush green equatorial undergrowth. I tripped on something, and looking down I saw it was a fragment of bone. That didn't seem at all out of the ordinary, because stray dogs often leave scraps lying around, so I thought nothing more of it and continued. Before long I discovered another piece of bone, bigger, and looking suspiciously like the end of a human tibia. "Hmmm" I thought, and continued. Rounding the next corner I saw something that made me stop in my tracks: there in front of me, in the middle of the path, looking right at me, was a skull. A real, human, muddy, dead skull. It was at this point that I noticed a smell. If you've smelt rotting flesh before you'll know it is a very distinctive smell, one you'll never forget. Now I was faced with a dilemma (and a skull, but you already know that). Should I go on and discover something worse, or get the hell out of there? I went on. Around the next corner I found where all the bits of skeleton was coming from. In a small clearing there were rows of shallow trenches, some empty, some filled in but showing obvious signs of being dug up by wild dogs. Bones were scattered everywhere. The stench was terrible. There must have been dozens of people buried there, possibly a hundred. I was worried that I had discovered evidence of some genocidal atrocity. I hurried back to the hospital and told the boss doctor all about my discovery. He explained to me the sad truth: it was the hospital's burial ground, where dead patients ended up if no families came to claim their bodies. Apparently people have to buy a license to transport and bury their relative in Kenya, and if they can't afford the transport-a-dead-body license they simply don't collect the body and leave it for the hospital to deal with. My sunny stroll had not been as pleasant as I'd hoped, but I still have a very good photo of the skull. Maybe I'll scan it and post it some time.
(Mon 4th Jul 2005, 6:47, More)
» Petty Sabotage
My fave act of sabotage!
Method:
Get a large bin (like a wheelie-bin), fill it two thirds full with water, empty a packet of water-cress seeds into it, and lean it at 45 degrees against someone's door while they are in their room (NOTE: the door opens inwards, right? I dunno why but doors almost always do).
Result:
When the victim opens their door the bin will fall inwards, flooding their room. Ha ha. End of joke, right? Wrong! A few days later their still-damp carpet will start sprouting a forest of lovely fresh green shoots :-D
(Fri 6th May 2005, 14:13, More)
My fave act of sabotage!
Method:
Get a large bin (like a wheelie-bin), fill it two thirds full with water, empty a packet of water-cress seeds into it, and lean it at 45 degrees against someone's door while they are in their room (NOTE: the door opens inwards, right? I dunno why but doors almost always do).
Result:
When the victim opens their door the bin will fall inwards, flooding their room. Ha ha. End of joke, right? Wrong! A few days later their still-damp carpet will start sprouting a forest of lovely fresh green shoots :-D
(Fri 6th May 2005, 14:13, More)
» Breakin' The Law
It was my mate Robert's stag night, and we were in Brighton.
We'd done the usual stag night stuff (got pissed in a crappy nightclub and snogged all the girls who were on hen's nights) and now it was time for the humiliation to start. The obvious choice was to take Robert onto the main street along the waterfront, strip him naked, and tie him to a lamp post. Then we all disappeared from view, talking about going back to the hotel. He thought we'd left him all alone for the rest of the night.
After a while he spotted a police van driving along the other side of the road. He called out to them, and they shouted that they'd go further up the road to turn around (there was a central barrier along the road), and then come and help him. Luckily for us, the police van turned around right where we were hiding. We waved it down, and explained to the coppers that Robert wasn't really alone, we were keeping an eye on him from a distance. The coppers were good sports and agreed to play along. They drove back to Robert, and explained to him that as no offence had been committed they were unable to intervene. Then they drove off. Robert was now convinced he'd be spending the rest of the night tied up nude.
Then something else happened. Two burly blokes dressed in leathers with big moustaches and peaked caps arrived and started to show some serious interest in Robert's bare backside (this was Brighton, after all). Robert was scared witless at the thought of being buggered silly for hours on end. After things had started to get interesting (but not TOO interesting) we decided it was finally time to intervene and save Robert from a sticky end (pun intended). The poor guy was an emotional wreck, but he forgave us the next day.
(Thu 8th Jan 2004, 0:37, More)
It was my mate Robert's stag night, and we were in Brighton.
We'd done the usual stag night stuff (got pissed in a crappy nightclub and snogged all the girls who were on hen's nights) and now it was time for the humiliation to start. The obvious choice was to take Robert onto the main street along the waterfront, strip him naked, and tie him to a lamp post. Then we all disappeared from view, talking about going back to the hotel. He thought we'd left him all alone for the rest of the night.
After a while he spotted a police van driving along the other side of the road. He called out to them, and they shouted that they'd go further up the road to turn around (there was a central barrier along the road), and then come and help him. Luckily for us, the police van turned around right where we were hiding. We waved it down, and explained to the coppers that Robert wasn't really alone, we were keeping an eye on him from a distance. The coppers were good sports and agreed to play along. They drove back to Robert, and explained to him that as no offence had been committed they were unable to intervene. Then they drove off. Robert was now convinced he'd be spending the rest of the night tied up nude.
Then something else happened. Two burly blokes dressed in leathers with big moustaches and peaked caps arrived and started to show some serious interest in Robert's bare backside (this was Brighton, after all). Robert was scared witless at the thought of being buggered silly for hours on end. After things had started to get interesting (but not TOO interesting) we decided it was finally time to intervene and save Robert from a sticky end (pun intended). The poor guy was an emotional wreck, but he forgave us the next day.
(Thu 8th Jan 2004, 0:37, More)